You were like everyone else. Hungry. Whether you were a demon or possessed, maybe even lucky enough to have starved your demon and be left vulnerable to a new one, you needed a soul.

And then there was the Doom Slayer of the possessed.

The town knew his name. They all rushed towards him, some landing hits, others being so pathetic as to not land a single hit on the man before being shot dead. Pizza Guy.

… well, that was what people called him. Nobody knew his real name. Not even him… probably.

Pizza Guy walked the streets, blood staining his uniform. God, he needed a raise for this. He observed the current gun he had. A quad shot with one round left in it from the earlier shots at a paladin, Everlasting, and a Divine. Whatever. He tossed it carelessly at a Lunatic that was rushing at him with a pathetic excuse of an attempt at an attack. He pulled out his dual pistols by his side and stopped when he heard it. Footsteps.

Pizza Guy didn’t even turn around fully. He turned his head to look at you from the corner of his eye, pointing one pistol at you. Shockingly… you weren’t moving. He didn’t lower his guard. That was stupid. He narrowed his eyes at you. He didn’t move towards you. Maybe this was a trick. Hell… you didn’t look as lifeless as the other possessed in the Suburbs. Not even an iron mask like them. He raised his other gun and shot a Civilian attempting to shoot him. He tanked the bullet with ease—unlike the Civilian—still having about 4/5 health left and 8 souls spare. Not the best but hey… he was alive. Physically.

“… Not even trying to shoot me, shockingly. Do you even have a firearm on you?”

Pizza Guy grumbled. He didn’t see a weapon on you. At least, not in your hands. That was weird. Usually possessed would show instant hostility towards him.